


Mount Weather School of the Arts

by abigaylefayth



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art School, College, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3686598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigaylefayth/pseuds/abigaylefayth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin is an artist that has been accepted into a world renown school for the artistically talented. Much to the demise of her mother, Clarke packs her stuff up to go across country and pursue her dream as an artist. She's planning on just lying low and doing her own thing but when she meets Octavia Blake and her friends, her time at Mount Weather School of the Arts gets a little more... interesting</p><p>or</p><p>The one where they all attend art school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Mount Weather school of the Arts

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys! This is my first multi-chapter fic and honestly I'm so excited to see how you guys like it! Please if you have any comments or helpful criticisms let me know because I would really love to hear anything that will help me become a better writer. :) I will probably be updating once a week, maybe more often than that but no promises. Above all, Remember to enjoy the story!

Clarke Griffin officially hated traveling. She was tired, she was hungry, and above all, she was fed up with dealing with other humans. So when her cab finally pulled onto the grounds of Mount Weather School of the Arts, all she wanted to do was get settled into her dorm room and take a nice long nap.

  
Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.

  
Instead, Clarke was going to get to spend her time before the afternoon orientation attempting to buy an entirely new wardrobe with the little money she had saved up for the first half of the school year.

  
Damned airport and the idiots that lost her luggage.

  
Clarke sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes as the cab hurried off. She was finally there. At the school of her dreams. If only she was a little less tired she would be able to be more enthusiastic.

  
When Clarke had gotten invited to attend Mount Weather School of the Arts for her freshman year of college, she was absolutely ecstatic. Like the jump-up-and-down-sing-til-your-voice-hurts type of happy. She couldn’t believe that she had actually been accepted into the world’s biggest and greatest classical arts school in history. Despite the protests of her mother, there was nothing that was going to stop Clarke from going.

  
Now, standing outside the doors of the dormitory buildings, anxiety was building in her stomach. What if she couldn’t live up to the expectations? What if her roommate was some weirdo? What if her mom was right and she should have just gone to medical school?

  
She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.

  
No. She was Clarke Griffin. She wasn’t going to start doubting herself now. After all, the school wouldn’t have accepted her if she wasn’t cut out to be there, right?

  
Grabbing her carry-on bag and backpack from the ground, Clarke pushed the front doors open and hurried in.

  
“Hi there! Welcome to Mount Weather School of the Arts!” a lady greeted from behind the front desk. She had red hair that was slicked back in a neat ponytail and a face that Clarke could only describe as pixie-like.

  
“Uh, yeah hi. I’m Clarke Griffin. Can you give me my dorm room key? Please? It’s room 319.” she said hesitantly.

  
“Yeah of course sweetie! Let me just pull your information up really quick,” the lady plastered a grin on her face and began tapping contentedly at her keyboard. ”I’m Cassie, by the way. Be prepared to be seeing a lot of my face around here because I’m the dormitory supervisor!” Her voice was a little too perky for the blonde’s taste. Almost everything she said sounded like it ended in an exclamation.

  
Clarke just stood there wondering what in the world would be so exciting about having to watch a bunch of college kids.

  
“Aha! Here we are!” The lady -- Cassie -- declared gleefully when Clarke’s student information popped up on the screen, “Majoring in art, huh?”

  
“Yep,” Clarke replied hastily. She really just wanted to find out her room number and get situated, but apparently Cassie had other ideas.

  
“Neat! So what do you do? Paint? Draw? Sculpt?” Cassie asked, eyes bright with interest. Why in the world was she so over enthusiastic?

  
“A little bit of everything, but I mostly draw,” Clarke shifted her weight, getting impatient.

  
“Well, you’ll love it here! The art building is absolutely gorgeous. Not that the rest of the campus isn’t… It’s all absolutely beautiful! Oh, just wait for the fall! The colors make the school grounds absolutely vibrant! You know...” she kept jabbering on and on about the campus and the classes and how absolutely splendid the shows were when the dance department put on ballets and blah blah blah… Clarke just stood there with her arms crossed trying very hard not to either pass out from exhaustion or snap at her to shut up.

  
Cassie was just beginning to explain how soft her skin was from the facial wash she used the night before (how the hell had she ended up on that subject?) when Clarke couldn’t handle it any longer.

  
“Listen, as much as I’d love to stand here and talk about our hygiene, I would really like to get my stuff up to my dorm. Can you just give me my key?” Clarke interrupted, clearly annoyed.

  
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry hun,” Cassie said, some of the light fading from her eyes. She reached behind the desk and pulled out Clarke’s key. “Here you go,” she said handing it to her, “Oh, and your information says that the packages you mailed here in advance have arrived. They should be up in your dorm.”

  
Clarke gave her a small “Thank you” and turned toward the elevator to go up to her room. She may not have her clothes but at least the mail hadn’t failed to send her the things she sent. Before she had left from New York, her mom had insisted that it would be a good idea to send some things so that she wouldn’t have to pay as much for luggage on the plane. Even if she hadn’t agreed with Clarke’s school choice, she still had to have a say in some of the things she did. This was one of the rare occasions that Clarke appreciated it.

  
After a short walk down the hall from the elevators, Clarke finally came to a stop at her room. Jingling her key in the door, she couldn’t help but admire the design of the place. The walls were splashed with colors and lined with pretty swirling pillars every so often causing Clarke’s artist eye to go insane with pleasure.

  
There was definitely no doubting this was a fine arts school. Especially since they put so much detail into just the dormitory building.

  
Walking into her new room, the first thing she noticed was that one side was very obviously already occupied. Clothing was strewn all over the twin bed and pictures were haphazardly hung all over the walls. Well – one side of the wall. Clarke was thankful to see that while her roommate’s side of the room was messy, her half was completely untouched except for the boxes that were set on her bed.

  
Mmmm. Bed. The very thought of it made Clarke want to curl up and fall asleep right then and there. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt…  
Clarke moved further into the room and fell onto the plush covers of her new bed. A couple minutes of shut-eye never hurt anybody right? This was fine. She could sleep and then maybe she’d be in a better mood.

  
She was just barely drifting off when suddenly the door banged open and very loud verse from Chandelier was being sung.

  
Clarke jumped up, startled, and had barely enough time to soften her fall as she went toppling to the floor.

  
“Ohmygod! Are you okay? I’m so sorry,” said the intruder hurrying over to help Clarke up, “I had no idea you were here yet.”

  
“It’s fine,” Clarke rubbed her head and looked at the new person. She was a very pretty girl with brunette hair and green eyes. Her slender, yet muscular, build made Clarke think she was a ballerina. Her face also gave away the fact that she was embarrassed because her cheeks had a slight blush.

  
“Are you sure? I really scared the shit out of you…”

  
For the first time in what felt like ages, Clarke gave out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, you did.”

  
“Oh! I’m Octavia by the way,” said the girl, “your roommate.”

  
“Figured as much,” She smiled at Octavia, and stuck out her hand, “Clarke.”

  
“What are we? Politicians?” Octavia laughed, eyeing her outstretched hand.

  
“Oh, uh, I guess not.” She said, awkwardly pulling her hand back. But then Octavia just bumped her playfully in the arm.

  
“Kidding. So. What are you here for?”

  
“I’m an artist,” she replied, “Well, I guess we all are here. What I meant is that I draw and sketch. What about you?”

  
“I’m 100 percent dancer. Have been since I was three,” Octavia’s face became very serious then and she pointed a finger at Clarke, “And that doesn’t mean I’m some dainty little priss.”

  
Clarke put her hands up in mock surrender, “Didn’t think you were.”

  
“Sorry, force of habit. I just really hate the ballet stereotypes.”

  
“Trust me, no stereotyping here,” She said giving Octavia a reassuring smile and Octavia returned it obligingly.

  
“Well, I guess I should let you get back to sleep. You look exhausted. Sorry again for scaring you.”

  
“No, it’s completely fine. I wouldn’t want to kick you out. It’s your room too. Plus, I shouldn’t have been sleeping anyway,” Clarke sighed, “I have to find a place that sells cheap clothes… And a way to get there."

  
Clarke slumped back down onto her bed, the worries she had from earlier flooding back into her mind.

  
“Clothes?” asked Octavia, confused.

  
“Yeah, my luggage was lost at the airport. I basically only have the ones on my back,” explained Clarke.

  
“Don’t you have somebody to call? Someone who can send you some things?”

  
Clarke could already hear her mother’s chastising voice saying “I told you you couldn’t do it alone. You should’ve stayed and gone to a college in the city.” There was no way in hell she was going to call her.

  
“It’s complicated.”

  
“I can help you out if you’d like…” suggested Octavia, her face holding sympathy, “My friend Raven and I were actually going to go shopping tonight as a celebration for making it into MWSA. She goes here too. She’s a really talented singer.”

  
“Oh I couldn’t ask that of you. We barely know each other, I would feel so bad…”

  
“Oh please. We’ll have to get used to each other one way or another. Plus I know this cute little thrift shop outside of campus.” Octavia’s face held a mischievous smirk.  
“I don’t know… I would be missing the orientation tonight…” said Clarke sheepishly.

  
“No big deal! My friends and I can just give you a personal tour later instead. I basically know anything and everything about this place. My brother has been going here for the past couple of years so it’s like a second home.”

  
Clarke bit her lip in hesitation, “Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

  
“Clarke. I told you it’s fine. Consider it payback after the scare I gave you earlier,” She laughed a little at her own joke, “Besides, Raven and I can use a new girlfriend to do stuff with. Too many boys in our ‘squad’ if you ask me.”

  
Clarke smiled at her, “Thank you so much. You’re a life saver, okay?”

  
When Octavia smiled back at her and gave her a small “Duh” in reply, her heart lifted. Maybe this whole experience wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she could prove her mother wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke runs into an asshole... literally.

“So you mean to tell me,” said Raven Reyes, Clarke’s newest acquaintance, in between bites of her hamburger, “That not only was your mom not proud of you for getting a scholarship into the world’s most elite fine arts school, but she _didn’t want you to attend?_ What the hell?”

It was later that afternoon and the three girls were sitting in the campus diner having burgers and milkshakes. (Well, Octavia was having twoburgers, a cheese fry, _and_ a milkshake. “Don’t let anybody ever tell you ballerinas starve themselves” She had pointedly said after she ordered. Clarke couldn’t argue against that, but she sure was questioning how Octavia maintained her perfect build. It wasn’t fair.)

“My mother and I have a… _strained_ relationship to say the least. She wanted me to follow in her footsteps and become a doctor. My dad was always the one that supported my dream to be an artist, but after he died two years ago I guess my mom decided that it was her chance take control of my life,” said Clarke. She tried not to wince at the faces of pity she saw on Octavia and Raven’s faces.

“So she just up and said she wasn’t gonna support you with her money? Just like that?” Octavia asked, “I can’t imagine what that would be like. My mom died awhile back and all I had was my brother… He may be an ass, but he’d support me no matter what I choose to do with my life. Well… except prostitution. Or – You know what? Never mind.”

Clarke laughed a little at that, but Raven just continued on, “It’s good that you stood up for yourself and got a job to save up money though. How did that work out anyway?”

“Well, I had been working at the hospital. My mom was head doctor of the surgical department and she had signed me up to work the maximum I could without a degree. So I wasn’t completely empty handed. After I won the scholarship in an art competition in the city, I began to sell some of my work,” the blonde shrugged her shoulders and then took a quick sip of her shake, “I never really planned on taking my mom’s money anyways. I know it seems a little selfish because there are so many people who aren’t as privileged as I was, but I wanted to do it on my own you know? I wanted to prove that I didn’t need her money to be successful.”

“I guess I can see where you’re coming from,” said Raven thoughtfully, “But as a person who grew up in foster care, there is no way I would’ve turned my head at money.”

There was a hard set to her jaw and Clarke could tell she had said something she shouldn’t have. But then Octavia jabbed Raven with her elbow in warning.

“We all come from different backgrounds. All are bad in their different ways, right?” Octavia said, attempting to ease the small amount of tension that had just formed. Fortunately it worked because Raven nodded and gave Clarke an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just touchy when it comes to my shitty life growing up.”

“I should be the one to apologize. I know it’s incredibly selfish that I’m complaining about my life when I had so much…”

They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment and Clarke hoped that this wouldn’t strain any friendship that could have developed. She was actually enjoying hanging out with them. It had been a while since she actually got to relax and just have fun talking with girlfriends.

Luckily, the awkward tension didn’t last long because two boys had walked up behind Octavia. One of them, the taller of the two with messy hair and a boyish face, covered Octavia’s eyes with his hands.

“Guess whoooo,” he singsonged, his expression plastered with an impish grin. Even though Clarke had no idea who the two boys were, the aura’s they gave off made her automatically relax and she smiled despite herself.

“Dude, you do this to her every time,” said the shorter boy. He was distinctly Asian with ruffled dark black hair and friendly eyes, “Of course she’ll know who you are.”

“Monty do you always have to ruin my fun?” mumbled the first boy, but he still had that smile on his face.

Octavia turned around with a laugh, “You two are such _dorks_.”

The tall boy (Clarke was still wondering what his name was) put his hand on his heart in mock betrayal, “You wound me,” he said.

Raven just rolled her eyes at all of them, but by the sparkle in her eye Clarke could tell how she cared for them. She only hoped she could ever bond with people so easily like that one day.

“So are you gonna introduce us or not?” asked the boy Clarke presumed was Monty.

“Of course we were going to introduce her, you just didn’t let us get to it. Clarke,” Raven said gesturing to her, “These two dumb asses are Jasper and Monty. Jasper and Monty, This is Clarke Griffin. She goes to school with us.”

Clarke grinned at them and waved. Monty returned the jester with a sweet smile while Jasper had other ideas.

“You didn’t tell us she would be so pretty,” he said winking at her. Clarke knew he was joking so she laughed. She could already tell she would get along with him just fine.

“Oh stop your flirting, you’re embarrassing yourself,” laughed Octavia, “I didn’t tell you anything accept ‘Meet Raven and I at the diner we want to introduce you to someone.’”

Jasper pouted, “Still,” he said but he must not have really meant it because the goofy grin returned to his face once again.

“So you go to school with us?” asked Monty as Jasper stole two chairs from another table and brought them over for the boys to sit on, “What’s your major?”

“I sketch. Mostly charcoal. What about you two?”

“I play the Violin,” said Monty as Jasper said “Cello” at the same time. And then, “We compose duets,” they chimed simultaneously.

“Wow that’s really cool, how long?” asked Clarke resting her elbows on the table and placing her chin in her hands.

Raven grunted next to her, “Here we go.”

Jasper gave her a devilish grin, ignoring Raven’s comment.  “Well you see young Clarke, It was many year ago when Monty and I met…”

Maybe she shouldn’t have asked that question.

 

*******

 

“Wow, you’re dressed rather fancy for a job interview at the coffee shop,” said Octavia the next day as she sat on her bed watching Clarke pace back and forth in their room, “You’ll do fine, trust me. If that place hired _Jasper,_ they’ll hire you.”

Clarke heaved a sigh but continued to pace the length of the narrow space between the beds. She supposed she was dressed a little too sophisticated for the situation at hand, but the thing was, she couldn’t _help_ it. She didn’t want to lose the opportunity that Jasper had so kindly offered her the day before when she mentioned she needed a job. It had been pretty miraculous, actually. The place Jasper worked was in very high demand for new employees at the moment and was going to let her come in in such short notice. She’d gone straight back to the thrift shop (while accompanied by Raven and Octavia of course) and bought a nice floral dress to wear to the interview the next day. Apparently she hadn’t needed it though because her mother had snuck in her boxes that were mailed to the school and put in a blouse and pencil skirt.

Usually it made her sick how much her mother tried to force such elegant attire onto her – personally, Clarke was a jeans and a t-shirt type of girl – but this time she was forced to say a grudging thank you in her head.

“Yeah I know. I Just – I need this job or else I probably won’t be able to survive the school year,” said Clarke warily.

“Relax. It’ll be fine,” Octavia assured her with a comforting smile.

It made Clarke’s rapidly beating heart slow down a few paces. She couldn’t explain why, but after only two days of knowing Octavia Blake, she felt close to her.

“And then when you come back later, my brother and I will take you around the school,” she continued and Clarke leaned into give her a gracious hug.

“Thanks, Octavia. Wish me luck,” she said finally. And when she walked out the door she heard Octavia say “Already have!”

Within ten minutes Clarke was hurrying up the steps to a quirky little building that read “Sip; Coffee House” over the entrance. Luckily, the place was within walking distance from the dorm building and once again Clarke found herself thanking her lucky stars that Jasper had given her this opportunity on such short notice.

She had gotten there a little early so she decided to go in and grab a coffee for good measure. The place itself was smaller than one might expect a coffee shop to be. Every square inch of wall was taken up by an amazingly abstract piece of art – most likely done by local artists. Clarke stored this piece of information for later – and the place was packed with mismatched tables and chairs. There was a big fluffy couch right next to the ordering counter and a massive chalk wall behind the desk listing the day’s specials in intricately curvy letters in various bright colors. A constant chatter could be heard from the families and college students that were packed into the small space.

Oddly enough, the coffee shop had a certain air to it that made Clarke feel comfortable despite how crowded it was. She would enjoy working here.

After ordering, Clarke walked back outside, coffee in hand. It was a beautiful day outside, the California sun shining bright overhead, so she had decided it would be best to walk across the parking lot where there were a couple picnic tables sitting in a patch of grass.

Unfortunately some idiot on a motorcycle decided to zoom into the parking lot the exact moment Clarke took a step off of the sidewalk. She gave a small cry of shock as she flung herself backward in desperation to not be hit by the roaring machine that was barreling down on her, causing the hot coffee to splash over the lid and spill down the front of her white shirt.

 _No. Nononononono. Not right now, not right before my interview_.

Anger bubbled up inside Clarke and she threw the crumpled coffee cup into the nearest trashcan savagely.

“ _You,”_ she growled as she stomped over to the mystery person who had almost killed her, “You asshole! Did you not see me very obviously walking?!”

The guy took his helmet off and shook out his hair, when he looked at her he seemed very perplexed. Why was there an angry blonde chick covered with coffee yelling at him?

“Hello?!” Clarke exclaimed, becoming more livid by the moment

“Woah woah woah,” said the guy taking an earplug out of his ear, “Whatever you’re mad about there is no reason to take it out on me.”

His voice was deep. Like, _really_ deep. If Clarke hadn’t been so pissed off, she might have almost fallen on the floor. And the guy’s appearance wasn’t half bad either. Okay – it was great. Sexy. He was the epitome of tall dark and handsome with his dark disheveled curls, tan skin, and toned muscles she could even see through his leather jacket.

Not that she paid much attention to any of that. Yeah, definitely not - she was too busy seething.

“No – _No reason?_ You nearly fucking ran me over!” She pointed an angry finger at him, “I have an interview in fifteen minutes and you made me spill my coffee all over myself!”

“I – what?” said the guy, a defensive tone creeping into his voice.

“Did you not see me?! No, clearly you were too busy thinking about whatever it was you were thinking about to pay attention enough to not _nearly hit a pedestrian.”_ As she said the last sentence she moved closer to him with every syllable, but he didn’t move to back up. He just crossed his arms and glared right back at her.

“I don’t know who you think you are, _princess_ ,” he snapped back at her, adding venom to the condescending nickname, “But where I’m from you don’t just storm up to a person and start screaming in their face when they make a mistake.”

“Don’t call me that, it’s not my name,” she said between ground teeth, “And your _mistake_ could have cost me my life. Plus you spilled coffee all over me!”

“Quite frankly, I don’t give a _shit_ what your name is. I may have _accidentally_ not seen you when I was pulling in, but you spilled the damn coffee on yourself. Now I would appreciate it if you got out of my face.”

Clarke didn’t move so he pushed passed her and began to stride toward the coffee shop.

She didn’t have it in her to pursue him – granted, she didn’t have the time either – so she just yelled “Prick!” after him and got out her phone.

Octavia, who had insisted on adding her number to Clarke’s contacts thank god, picked up on the second ring, “Aren’t you supposed to have an interview in 10 minutes? Why are you calling?”

Clarke tried to keep her voice from shaking but failed, “I need you to run over here and bring me that dress we got yesterday.”

“What? Why? What happened?” Clarke could hear the concern in Octavia’s voice.

“Some douchebag nearly ran me over with his motorcycle and caused me to spill coffee all over myself and I don’t have enough time to walk there, change, and walk back. Octavia, please hurry.”

“Oh god, what an asshole. Already on my way,” said Octavia and the phone clicked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the irony.


End file.
